


We All Still Die

by orphan_account



Series: Seth Projects tm [1]
Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, aka im just projecting, ian is just really fucking depressed, like big fucking tw, sorry - Freeform, to literally everyone reading this, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: mfw ive been chilling in a hospital bed for two days and im writing this shit only to get the emotions out in a way that makes sense i guess hahahah not proof read either i die like a man idk why im publishing it it's like the only decent thing I've written in a month not gonna lie uhhh yeah read the tags big fucking tw of the suicidal thoughts kind lmfao if anyone irl knew i wrote this I'd be a dead man sorry literally everyone for writing this uhhhhhh yeah we having a not fun time
Series: Seth Projects tm [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565236
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	We All Still Die

**Author's Note:**

> god im gonna regret posting this

Ian was tired a lot of the time. Most of the time, actually. The constant sleep deprivation never helped him much, but that just seemed to be a side effect of his depression. Most nights he'd lay awake in the dark, nothing but the shadows and things his brain could create to keep him company.

Often, he thought about death. It was almost a default thought. He always wondered about how it felt to die, what came next. He wanted to find out, as it was such a strange thing, death. A life built up for so long could just end in a heartbeat, fragile bodies just ceasing to function. All thoughts, all actions ceasing to exist, and would there really be a soul to pass on? Or was it just the wonders of the human brain?

However, for someone so interested in such a topic, he was afraid to die. The thought of him actually dying terrified him. It always had. There were times when he was young, where he'd lay awake in fear, scared of when he'd die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live forever. As he grew, he came to terms with the fact that everyone eventually died, but yet again, he'd fear it. He just hoped it wasn't painful and he wouldn't regret it.

The suicidal thoughts didn't really kick in until a good while later. Death still frightened him as much as before, but there was now a sense of tranquility in the realisation he could take his own life, he could control how it ends. But sometimes it wouldn't matter. He just wanted it over.

Ian grew sick and tired of the same old same old. Pessimistic views turning everything negative, a constant fear of anything and everything, irrational fears born out of his own insecurities, his own self hatred that seemingly grew from nothing at all. He couldn't think of what triggered it all, what was the start of this domino effect into this mess of a person.

The thoughts were more of an ideology. Something he was afraid to do, but he knew he could. He could see a lorry and wonder what would happen if he just merely stepped in front of it, how it would feel. He could put a blade to his wrists and watch everything be covered in red. He could jump from high up, feel the rush of the air on his face, trying so desperately to push him back. Ian asked himself if he'd regret it. If his death wasn't instant, if he lived, he questioned if he'd regret trying in the first place.

Ian knew he had a good chance of messing it up, and then everything could be so much worse. His friends and family taking pity on him, treating him differently. He hated their compassion towards him, he didn't like feeling cared about, it only added to his feelings of being weak. He hated people caring about him. He knew if he failed, they'd care too much, and he would definitely hate it. He'd hate it for every second it was there.

And so one morning, just like every other, he found himself contemplating again. He stared down at the razor blade in his palm, the small voice in his brain chanting something along the lines of 'do it, nothing's stopping you'. Truthfully, the only thing stopping him was himself. His own fear and doubts.

The longer he stared, the harder it was to put it down. The longer he stared, the louder his thoughts got, the more enticing it looked. It was so easy, so simple, yet he just would not. Ian didn't notice the tears forming in his eyes, nor his shaking body. 

He stared up into the mirror in front of him, only to see the reflection of the man he'd began to hate. Himself. Ian threw the razor at the mirror, the metal bouncing off and into the sink below. Ian fell to his knees and sobbed.

Not today, not yet.


End file.
